"W'y, kid, you talk's if you never bin in the p'fession. How ole does Miss Le Fay look? Nineteen, tha's all. But with a great big boy like you taggin' on—W'y, say, you'd queer her with them English managers right off. You don' wanna do that now, Freddy?"
"No, but I—"
"I knew you'd take it sensible. You always bin a lot of help to
Florette."
"Did she tell you, Bert?"
"Sure!"
"A' right. I'll stay. When—when's she comin' to tell me goo'-by?"
"Why—why—look-a-here. Brace up, ole man. She had to leave a'ready."
"She's gone?"
"Say, you don' think bookin' like that can wait, do you? It was take it or leave it—quick. You didn't wan' her to throw away a chancet like that, huh, Freddy? Huh?"
Freddy's head sank on his chest. His hands fell limp. "A' right," he murmured without looking up.